Whitewater Gorge Hydrogen

The boy stared at her as she gave a small laugh, his head tilting as if trying to understand what the sound was. He studied the pale gold of her fur, a color not unlike spots of sunshine in the shade, and her darkly lined eyes kept attracting his eye: baubles of blue-green seaglass that danced with the good nature of her mood.

Lycabas turned his head as the girl’s attendant sat a variety of meats before them. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva as hunger touched the corner of his gaze.

Muat-riya Isetno… What? He only comprehended about half the words spoken, and he certainly didn’t understand the concept of a princess or what that meant for their respective statuses.

He looked back at Toula, his eyes wide. Her name was even longer than his! (Not that he could quite remember how to pronounce his own last name; he just knew it contained a lot of syllables.) I don’t know if I can remember all of it… I’ll just avoid saying her name. Yeah, that’s it. Just pretend you know the whole thing. Lycabas, he answered when asked. I have another name, but I can’t remember how to say it. Do you have that problem, too? Is that why your friend says it for you?

Meanwhile, he cast a sidelong glance at the meat lying about their paws. He knew it would be bad manners to assume he could just take anything, so he suffered through being patient.